She gave him a surprise attack and jabbed at his ribs, grazing his side. He roared, swinging wildly, but Jen pivoted under his arm, using his momentum to slip past him. She jabbed again at his shoulder. The blade cut through cloth and skin, and blood darkened the floorboards.
He stumbled backward into the dresser, toppling another lamp that shattered into shards. The loud crash of glass mingled with their grunts and heavy breathing.
Pain shot through Jen's wrist as she avoided his next grab, rolling to her feet just in time.
"Stay back!" she screamed, voice raw, adrenaline surging.
He swiped at her with both hands now, desperation flashing across his face. Jen ducked, sidestepping, and slashed the knife across his chest. The blade caught flesh, forcing him to stagger again. She kicked backward at his knee, sending him tumbling toward the window sill. He slammed into it, rattling the frame, and she pressed her advantage.
Now, tall burglar was pinned against the window, one shoulder pressed into the frame, blood dripping from multiple cuts. His breaths came in ragged bursts, his body straining against the pain, yet he still glared at Jen with a mix of rage and disbelief. The room smelled of sweat, blood, and broken glass, and the remnants of the fight—the toppled lamp, scattered shards, and overturned chair—created an obstacle course that worked entirely in her favor.
Jen's eyes flicked to the bedroom door, wide open, a sliver of opportunity in the chaos. She could feel her pulse in her throat, each beat urging her to act. The twins, miraculously, were still fast asleep in the corner, their soft breathing giving her a sharp sense of urgency. She had to move, but she could also escalate the situation, turning the environment itself into a weapon.
The open door remained just behind her—a gateway to the hallway, however not to safety, But Jen had a decision to make.
Jen didn't hesitate. With the tall burglar pinned against the window, she saw her chance and bolted toward the open door. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline propelling her forward as the floorboards creaked beneath her feet. The hallway stretched before her, moonlight spilling across the walls, but movement at the top of the stairs froze her mid-step.
The calm burglar. He was almost at the head of the stairs, moving with silent precision, his gaze scanning the hallway like a predator calculating its next move.
Jen's stomach tightened as their eyes met. She couldn't confront him—not now, not with the twins vulnerable and the other burglar injured but still dangerous. Instinctively, she spun on her heel and sprinted in the opposite direction of the house, toward any potential exit.
Meanwhile, the calm burglar didn't bother chasing her. The hallway offered multiple paths, and the scene in the bedroom drew his attention instead. He slipped into the room, silently taking in the sight before him.
The tall burglar was slumped against the window, a pool of blood forming beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the floorboards. The wound wasn't fatal, he could tell, but it was enough to slow him, enough to make him a liability if not addressed.
The calm burglar's expression remained unreadable, but the small frown creasing his brow betrayed a hint of concern. He noted Jen's absence immediately—she had taken the opportunity to escape—and realized the stakes had shifted. The tall burglar would be immobilized for now, but the game wasn't over.
Somewhere in the house, the woman who had just bested one of them was running free, and that fact demanded attention.
He moved cautiously, every step calculated, knowing the next few moments could determine whether control of the house would remain in their hands—or slip entirely away.